


You Must be an Angel

by antigrav_vector



Series: Bingo - Western AU [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Secret Wars Battleworlds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Western, Cap_Ironman Bingo, Crossover, Gen, Multiverse, Stony Bingo, Stony Bingo 2016, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8246231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: A man falls from the sky. Mr. Stark and the Sheriff have to cope, somehow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fills the "crossover: marvel verse/marvel verse" square on my bingo card. Betaed by the lovely [navaan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan).

A man had just fallen from the sky. Tony turned to Steve. "Just what the Sam Hill did you have Jan put in my breakfast?" He demanded.

"Fuck off," the man said and groaned, dropping a bright red metallic shape the size of a small suitcase into the dirt beside him and pushing himself onto his back. "I'm pretty sure I'm not in Kansas anymore. You're either a hallucination or a dream, so you don't get to call me one."

Tony stared, and could practically feel Steve's eyes shifting from him to the new arrival and back. The stranger was dressed very oddly, and had a glowing circle in the middle of his sternum. But worst of all? This guy looked a lot like Tony.

There was an awkward pause as they all eyed one another warily.

It was Steve who broke the stalemate. "Look, I don't know who you are, or where you came from," he said, holding up a hand when the stranger tried to answer. "I don't need to know, either. I need to know how to send you home."

The stranger snorted, derisive. "Judging by the very 1850s decor," he replied, "the 'how to send me home' is less important than the 'what I need to get home'. I'm pretty sure it doesn't exist here."

Steve exchanged a glance with Tony before he turned back to the familiar stranger. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The stranger rolled his eyes. "If you haven't figured it out yet, you need glasses."

Tony rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "This is too much. I need a drink."

" _You_ need a drink? I just jumped dimensions, and _you_ need a drink?" The stranger exclaimed. "I don't think so; you're telling me what the fuck situation I've been dropped into."

Giving in with a groan, but only because he saw no other option that wouldn't bring Fisk down on their heads before you could yell 'larceny', Tony turned back toward his smithy. "Fine, come on."

Tony could feel them follow, a presence behind him that made the skin between his shoulder blades itch. He led them past the front door, leaving Steve the task of locking it after them, and into the tiny excuse for a dining room he kept. Normally he ate at Jan's.

Settling himself at the table, which would be just big enough for the three of them to sit at without knocking elbows, Tony gestured to one of the other two seats, happy he wouldn't have to haul over something makeshift out of the smithy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had company. Much less more than one visitor.

It took Steve and the stranger a moment to settle, less at home in the dim light and slightly smoky air of the smithy than outside in the bright sun.

"So," Steve opened, breaking the silence and leaning forward with a slight creak of leather, "what should we call you?"

With a dismissive wave, the stranger replied, "Call me Iron Man, if you don't like Tony."

That was a dare if Tony had ever heard one. Setting aside the strangeness of the moniker, which sounded like a nom de guerre, he riposted, "I should call you Junior."

It got him a bark of laughter. "Pretty sure I'm older than you," Iron Man told him. "Try again."

"Junior it is," Tony decided, and went on, talking over the new arrival's half-offended exclamation, "and the situation, as you put it, is a bit delicate, unless your name is Fisk."

Steve was laughing at Junior as he picked up the thread of the story, Tony could tell. "Fisk more or less owns the county," he said, "and fancies himself king. His men act like they are the law, above even the sheriffs and lawmen themselves, and take what they want."

Junior had sobered as Steve talked. "And you're fighting to keep him in check, are you?" He asked, shrewdly.

"No," Tony replied.

"Yes," Steve said at the same time.

They exchanged a look.

"Not directly," Steve conceded. "We'd never win."

\------


End file.
